Warriors
by Apocalyptian Scribe
Summary: First, my computer gets destroyed and then I find out that Riot's servers are down. Just when I thought things were bad enough, it turns out that I can summon a champion into our world and I'm not the only one that can summon champions either. Now I have to adapt, learn to summon my guardian, or be forced to die a horrible painful death by another summoner. Oh joy . . .


**Warriors**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1:<strong>

**A Lore Destroyed, A Story Begun**

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><p>My palms are sweating as the sound of clicking furiously resonates in my room. Green indicators flash on the screen as I force my champion to make their way into the jungle. The first ward I place is in the bush right between Red Buff and Baron Nashor, no enemies sighted. The second makes me skip a heartbeat as the first sight of my new river ward catches a glimpse of three members going into "the Pit" as I call it. Furious pings spew from my "v" key as I try desperately to tell someone to use a blue trinket and when it fires, we see four members of their team trying to sneak a baron.<p>

Now, at this point, what do you expect my team to do?

1. Get their ass to baron and fight them head on while they're taking damage.

2. Rush to the enemy base while one stays behind to stop their recalls

3. TAKE FUCKING DRAGON AND DO NOTHING!

If you picked anything else than the last one, then you clearly gave my team too much credit. For nearly half a minute, I pinged, gloriously using my keyboard to play a glorified rendition of Simon-Says to get my teammates into action. Hilariously, one actually managed to start moving towards me before moving towards dragon seeing as no one else had dared to follow. It was after such a travesty that I simply watched my idiot teammates get picked off one by one in the most idiotic fashion possible. With the red logo of defeat taunting me, I clicked the button in the middle of my screen and threw my hands in the air.

The story of my life: me, Eli, cuntbag, and whatever people called me by. My parents were Christian sorta folk, so they named me after the Elisha dude in the bible and all that. I didn't really care much for that stuff, but I did admit that being named after a dude that summoned bears to maul the shit out of assholes giving you a hard time seemed pretty awesome. The only down side came to their constant treatment with me, because of their whole up and high holiness; I swore they were trying to make me more like a pet than anything else.

With that, I became something of a loner. I didn't like accepting help from friends or my parents, always keeping to myself seeing as most people annoyed me. Group projects and activities made me cringe and I distinctly remember attempting as much as I could to try and remove myself from group situations. It's not hard to see how that sort of thinking poured into my league play.

"You mother-fuckers," I began, breathing as I massaged my temples, "give me hemorrhoids."

Fun fact, I did get that horrendous disease sometime after I started to use that phrase. Perhaps it was karma, perhaps it was genetics, I don't know. Whatever it was, I was destined to keep that phrase in the back of my head and use it whenever I needed, like right then and there.

"Dude, calm down," typed one of my ex-teammates. We were on skype, but he didn't have his own microphone since he was a cheap bastard. I didn't understand it, you could buy twenty dollar headsets with mics easy, "It's just a game."

That was probably the worst phrase to use at this point. I understood, League of Legends was a game, it should have been for fun, blah and blah and mother fucking BLAH. But when I play in ranked, you bet your ass I'm going to play as try-hard as I can. Hell, I even went as Malphite for Christ-sake because my fuck-wad of a mid-picked Yasuo, but sometimes, individual play can't stop idiots from being idiots.

I guess this was more of a reason why I hated being in a group, being told to shut the fuck up because reason number 234827-dash a billion and saying that my thoughts and feelings on something were absolutely worthless compared to drone number whatever. Sure, I'm not always right, and I'm damn sure I rage hard a lot of the times, but that doesn't mean whatever I'm saying isn't right.

It was there that I started scratching at my large white desk with the edge towards me curving around as if it tried to eat me. The water bottle next to me was still lying on its side, as empty as my soul was at that point. Couldn't remember the last time I had something to drink, but my full bladder was starting to get at me as I typed up another response. After that, it was the restroom time for me.

The cold, hard wood floor made my feet tingle and the frigid air didn't help either. Of course, seeing as I was living alone, I had to give up some perks like constant heating and free food. Cleaning was a bitch too, but I was always washing the dishes and showers anyways. Living with my parents for twenty years had degraded all but the deepest recesses of mind, but at least I could appreciate what they taught me. After all, who better to learn how to live than from parents that survived moving nearly 6000 miles away from their homeland? My parents were pure Koreans through and through . . . and seeing as Koreans dominated the world of E-sports, with League included, I could appreciate my blood even more.

When I got back, my partner was typing out more and more mistakes I had made. Some of them were recognizable, but other times they just seemed to fall through since it was miscommunication on their part or them not following up. Me, being the angry Asian I was, I removed myself before I could explode again.

I didn't know why I even tried getting someone on board with me when I got to Gold myself all fine and dandy. I had actually lost more games when I teamed up than won, so the whole Duoing was just starting to grate on my nerves, or maybe I was just on tilt. I didn't know, hell, I still don't know, but what I can tell you right now is that I wanted a pick me up.

"Fuck ranked, fuck it all to hell," I said as I opened up a normal draft game. With normals, I was always more calm and able to let loose with some stupid champion picks. AP Kog, Jungle Karthus, I always got my hand all those fun, weird picks that didn't make sense at first, but did have a lot of strength in game. But I wasn't looking for something too weird at that moment; I was looking to still win. A ten game losing streak that pushes you from Gold III to Gold V was a downer and I was looking to win. Most people recommended that I stop playing for a bit, seeing that I would have been on tilt, but I wasn't the type to stop right after a loss. After all, I'm a stubborn asshole.

And I love it

The moment it's my turn to pick, I pick the one and the only Master Yi, top Master Yi. Immediately, I saw the fanfare of gasps and growls aim towards me as my temporary teammates try to use the chat to convince me to go jungle.

"Top Yi is Terrible," one said

"He has no damage to lane with," said another.

Another called me a faggot, but at that point I was already leaning backward to stretch my arms. Being an imaginative guy, the words that appeared on the screen quickly turned into ever pleasing squeals of idiots whining about my choice in top laners. What would probably be even more hilarious would be when I would prove these idiots wrong.

Top Yi was the brain child of a high Elo player named Ninfang, but I didn't miss a beat in taking it for myself. While it wasn't absolutely simple, Top Yi's gameplay had instantly captured my heart for its aggressiveness, early-kill potential, solo capability, and emote spam-ability. Emote spams are a core part of my game and if I can't spam in front something, a part of my brain explodes.

But yea, moving along, I found myself shaking a bit too much and pulling a nice yellow shirt over my head. Pants weren't an issue, since I always wore my red shorts since they were just so damn comfy. Socks, on the other hand, were off and on. Most of them were on the floor on my side desk for safe keeping and I'd sometimes take them off if I started to sit on my feet. I wasn't wearing them then, because I distinctly remember having to put them on after I saw my screen go blank.

I thought it was league simply starting up that dark screen before the champion loading stuff popped up. When it began to take a bit, nothing caught my attention and I made my way to the mini kitchen I had. The stack of college textbooks filled with sheets of notes and finished homework nearly made me trip, but I caught myself before I made the fall. Empty, save for some cold fruit and microwavable insta-foods, my lovely little refrigerator looked a bit lonely with nothing inside it.

Oh well, League was a calling so I just grabbed an apple. A quick wash later and that apple was already half done when I got back to my chair. To my surprise, it was still black.

"The fuck?"

Being as I was, I frantically looked at my laptop to see if anything had happened. It was still on so obviously it was the client crashing, right? I tried to alt tab as I took another bite, but nothing happened. Suddenly, my head spun out of control as I frantically played with my baby. Having worked my ass off for this machine, I was not willing to watch this thing die. To put this into perspective, thirty five hours working and three college classes does not make me a happy man. The money I was able to save barely amounted for a workable computer, let alone something that could play League on the go.

So when I played around with my power button, dusted out its insides, and aired it out as much as I could, let's just say that I was not at my best. There were even times that I had to wipe the sweat on my face just to keep it off my computer; of course, I failed due to the sheer inducing adrenaline pumping in my veins. After several minutes, I was even going to call my friend just so I could get the computer tech hotline to see what was up when I noticed something off.

Earlier, I had removed the battery in an attempt to restart it – as the power button had failed to turn it off. Before I could look at it straight, I began doing anything else to ensure that the computer was ok before starting it up. What was strange was that I had forgotten to put the battery back into its proper place . . .

And the computer was still up and at it, stuck on the dark screen and powered on. Now, I'm no computer genius, but I'm not butt fucking retarded enough to think that a computer can stay on without its battery. The charger was also across the room, moved when I had been sent into a panic. Now I wasn't just panicking, I was wondering what demonic son of a bitch had stormed into my computer.

But of all those bits that had happened, the worst thing had yet to come. You see, even though I was standing there and looking at a computer powered by god knows what, the whole realization hadn't set it. I was frozen, stuck if you will, in my head and nothing I thought up of made any sense. Could you blame me? I'm just a college student trying to play some god damn league. For a moment, it seemed for a second that I was going to stay as that with this being some weird ass story I'd tell to people I would know.

Then, I swear to god, a laser beam freaking shot through my ceiling and destroyed my computer and I blacked the fuck out.

And that was only the beginning of what I would have to deal with.

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><p><strong>Lore change equals new story<strong>

**No summoners, eh?**

**We'll see about that.**


End file.
